Chapter 24
24
GABY
‘So, how did I do?’ I say, holding up the sugar cookie I’ve decorated. ‘Think you’ll have a job for me at Baked to Perfection?’
Raff looks up from his perfectly decorated Christmas tree. ‘It’s, er… colourful ,’ he replies diplomatically. He comes around to my side of the kitchen counter to inspect the other cookies I’ve decorated. He tried to teach me the proper technique, which involved piping, but I ended up with more frosting on me than on the cookies, so I’m now using a butter knife.
‘Is that one supposed to be a reindeer?’ he asks.
‘Christmas stocking,’ I reply.
‘Ahh.’ He pats me on the shoulder. ‘Well, at least they’ll taste good.’
‘Well, yeah, because you made the dough – and the frosting.’
I regard my work; not one cookie looks like it’s supposed to.
‘It’s like we let a bunch of preschoolers in here and gave them a Jackson Pollock painting for inspiration,’ I say, selecting the worst of the bunch and biting off what’s supposed to be Rudolph’s nose.
‘It’s a good thing you have other talents,’ he says with a playful raise of his brows .
In another context, that might have sexual connotations. But I’m so far into the friendzone, I can’t even see sex or romance or anything non-platonic from here. He’s obviously just being nice.
I study him for a moment, the intense concentration on his face, the way he skilfully pipes an intricate row of ornaments on a tiny Christmas tree. He has sexy hands, something that’s only occurred to me today. They’re large, with long tapered fingers, neat nails, and a smattering of freckles across the backs.
And as I watch their deft, precise movements, I start fantasising about what Raff could do to me with those hands – running them up my naked body, cupping my breasts, reaching between my?—
A phone chimes, interrupting the lascivious thoughts about my best friend’s hands. Probably a good thing – getting felt up in my parents’ kitchen while decorating Christmas cookies would be tacky. And messy.
‘Yours or mine?’ Raff asks without lifting his head.
‘Mine,’ I reply, catching sight of the notification on the home screen before it disappears. ‘It’s an email from Claire,’ I say, my stomach clenching in excitement – or is it dread? I wipe my hands down the front of my apron and navigate to the email. Raff abandons his post and reads over my shoulder.
Dear Gaby,
I’m hoping you’ve done as you were told and haven’t checked work emails since you set your OOO message, which is why I’m emailing your personal account. I am thrilled to say that you are our new marketing director, and will start in the role when you return to work early Jan. All the details in your work inbox, including your new salary. Just wanted to give you the news before I signed off for the year.
Huge congrats! I’m really proud of you and I know you’ll do brilliantly in the role .
Happy Christmas,
Claire
‘I got it,’ I say, my voice barely audible. As the news starts to sink in, elation rockets through my body.
‘I knew you would!’ Raff exclaims, and I turn to him.
‘I’m going to be the new marketing director.’
‘Yes!’
With my free hand, I grasp his forearm and start jumping up and down. ‘I got it. I got it, Raff!’ I say through gleeful laughter. Raff grins at me and I stop bouncing. ‘What was it you said? About not knowing how much you want something until it’s presented to you…’
‘Something like that.’
‘I mean, yeah, I wanted it but maybe I didn’t let myself want it too much, you know – in case I didn’t get it, and now that I have…’ I look away and exhale slowly, letting the realisation wash over me.
‘Gabs.’ I meet Raff’s smiling eyes. ‘Seriously, I am so happy for you – and so proud. Claire’s right: you’ll absolutely smash it.’
He draws me into a hug, and I sink into the embrace and rest my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat through his sweater and breathing in the scent of his Christmassy cologne.
In the confines of his arms, my head and heart are at war, my head telling me this is just the congratulatory hug of a best friend and my heart longing for more.
So. Much. More.
He draws back slightly, and I look up at his handsome face. How have I never noticed until recently how his crooked smile and the angle of his cheekbones give him a sort-of handsome-elf look – like a red-headed Legolas?
He smiles at me proudly, then leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, igniting tingles that cover my entire body, giving me goosebumps. Then he releases me and returns to his side of the kitchen counter, leaving a vacuum of want in his wake.
‘What’s all the noise about?’ My sister wanders into the kitchen and heads straight to the coffee pot. I wait for her to pour a mug and doctor it with creamer, and when I know I have her full attention, I answer.
‘I went for a promotion at work – actually, it’s Raff old role – and I got it.’ I grin at her excitedly, not entirely sure how she’ll react. Issy’s in a miserable place right now, so it’s not like I expect her to be elated for me.
She stares at me for a second, then sets down her coffee, her eyes welling with tears. Uh oh . Then she crosses the kitchen and hugs me. ‘I am so happy for you, sis,’ she says.
I return the hug, which conveys so much more than sisterly pride. This is such a shitty time for her and I wish there was more I could do to ease her pain. She sniffles, then steps back, regarding me thoughtfully. ‘You always were the smart one,’ she says with a devilish smile.
‘Me? What about you, Ms 4.0 GPA?’
She lifts a shoulder in a half-hug. ‘Okay, so we’re both the smart one.’
‘And the pretty one,’ I add.
‘Undeniably.’
We grin at each other, then she swipes at the tears on her cheeks. ‘Okay, no more crying!’ she declares, going back for her coffee and taking a sip.
‘So, you guys are making good progress,’ she says, surveying the counter where a rugelach is cooling, fruit mince pies (Raff’s favourite) are piled up on a platter, and six dozen cookies are in various stages of being decorated.
‘Do you want one?’ I ask, indicating the cookies.
‘Well, yeah! ’
I point to the ones I’ve done. ‘Take one of these. Raff’s are too pretty to eat.’
‘For sure. Mom will probably save his till next year and decorate the tree with them,’ she quips. He chuckles at that, adding another completed Christmas tree to the drying rack.
‘Whereas we inherited the Rivera Family can’t-so-much-as-draw-a-stick-figure gene,’ she tells him.
‘I did wonder if the entire family is afflicted,’ he retorts with a smirk.
‘Hey! Rude,’ I reply.
He laughs and Issy sniggers, and I’m glad we’ve been able to cheer her up – at least for now.
‘Right,’ says Raff, going to the sink and washing his hands, ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy – I need a quick loo break.’
He jogs out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and I splatter icing on my last two cookies, then shove the rest of Rudolph in my mouth. I’m munching away – it’s so good – when I catch Issy staring at me.
‘What?’ I say through my mouthful.
She leans in and whispers, ‘What’s going on between you and Raff?’
‘Hmm?’ I swallow, then brush crumbs from the corner of my mouth. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean , I saw you – hugging – and you seemed all…’ She mimics a dreamy, lovey-dovey look.
I must look like a stunned mullet. I shake my head, breaking my sudden stupor.
‘Um…’
‘Are you guys into each other?’
‘ No .’
She cocks her head, looking at me disbelievingly, and panic courses through me. God, I’m really running the gamut of emotions today. I look towards the staircase and listen for the sound of Raff coming back – nothing – so I reach for Issy and pull her close. Knowing I have very little time to fill her in, I talk fast.
‘Yes, I’ve fallen for Raff, okay? But he doesn’t know. And he’s just started dating this woman – Julia – that he met through this matchmaker, only he doesn’t know he met her through the matchmaker, because he told Freya she could only match him if he didn’t know about it. And now he’s super into her – Julia – and I have no idea what the fuck I am doing.’
‘Seriously? There’s a matchmaker involved?’
That’s the detail she latches onto?
‘Yeah. She and Freya are the only ones who know – about me – and Raff – my feelings, I mean. And now you.’
‘But you’re sharing a bed with him! Holy shit, Gaby. How are you even doing that?’
‘I’m a straight-up masochist.’
Her eyes open wider as she looks behind me. ‘Yeah, you can totally borrow that dress for the wedding,’ she says loudly.
It would almost sound convincing if Issy and I didn’t wear completely different dress sizes but, thankfully, Raff doesn’t seem to think anything of it.
She nudges me in the ribs, then makes a big deal of oohing and ahhing over Raff’s cookies.
We decide we have enough of the preschoolers-on-the-loose cookies – and by ‘we’ I mean ‘Raff’ – so he decorates the last two batches. No doubt it’s too painful for him watching me decimate cookie after cookie.
I clean up the kitchen around him, occasionally shooing Issy away from the mounting collection of Instagram-ready cookies. For a fleeting moment, I considered posting a few pics to my feed, passing them off as my own, but no one who knows me would believe that, not even for a second.
When the kitchen is clean and Issy and Raff are engaged in an innocuous conversation about his TV appearance, I excuse myself and go into the living room to text Freya about the promotion. She replies right away, even though it must be late in Sweden.
Yay! I knew you’d get it. So happy for you. How’s the other thing?
I double check that I’m on the Freya/Gaby-only chat thread, and not the one we share with Raff. I never want to make that mistake again – especially not now.
Not great. Harder every day. Sharing a bed out of necessity because my sis is now here. Full house.
*horrified face emoji*
Am I a bad person if I hope it doesn’t work out with Julia?
Not a bad person! Just take care of your heart. *heart emoji*
We exchange a few more messages – mostly about how she’s been spending her time and her weird aunt, who insists on tucking her in each night. When I get back to London, she and I can compare oddball-aunt stories. She signs off with:
Hang in there. Love you. *kissing face emoji*
‘We’re home!’ Mom calls from the entry.
‘Coming!’ calls Issy .
Excited to share my news, I leap off the sofa and go greet the wedding planners, and Issy and Raff come in from the kitchen.
‘How’d it go?’ I ask as Mom, Dad, and Monica peel off their coats and scarves and hang them up.
Monica flashes me a look that warns, ‘Don’t ask.’
Mom heads straight for the kitchen, and we all follow. ‘Let’s just say it’s a miracle that I didn’t commit sororicide,’ she says tersely.
That doesn’t sound good. I guess my news can wait.
‘Does that mean Aunt Christine’s lucky to be alive?’ Issy asks.
‘Yep,’ says Monica, ‘and not only because your mom restrained herself. Grrrr.’ She bares her teeth, raising her hands as if she’s about to strangle someone.
‘Can I interest anyone in tea or coffee and some Christmas biscuits?’ asks Raff, obviously wanting to be helpful.
‘Oh, Raff, you absolute sweetheart,’ says Mom. ‘Yes to the cookies but I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee. Hun?’ She looks at Dad, a pleading look on her face. ‘How about you make some of your famous eggnog? Heavy on the brandy.’
‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he replies with a wink.
Dad busies himself at the stove as Mom fills us in on the highlights (AKA lowlights) from the day, the most enthralling being that Aunt Christine’s custom-made, mother-of-the-bride dress is too tight – way too tight.
It’s her own doing, as she’s put on seven pounds in the lead up to the wedding from stress eating. So she’s having to wear something from her closet and pay the exorbitant cost of the customised dress.
‘Holy shit,’ says Issy, ‘I would love to have been a fly on that wall.’
‘Uh, no, you wouldn’t. Mom’s tantrum would put the cast of Bridezilla vs Momzilla to shame. I’m lucky we got out of there with my dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses. If I were the dressmaker, I’d have told us to go to hell, then kicked us all out.’
‘Roland, just pour me a glass of brandy, will you?’ Mom asks as she climbs onto a stool. Dad takes a brandy snifter out of an overhead cupboard and serves her a generous pour, then goes back to making eggnog. Mom swigs some brandy, then shakes her head. ‘My sister…’
Aunt Christine isn’t the only one who’s stress eating – Monica’s about to eat her third cookie. At least she’s taking from the ‘Jackson Pollock’ pile, but at this rate, Raff may need to make another batch, maybe two.
‘Oh, I’ve just remembered,’ Mom tells us, her mood lifting slightly. ‘They said on the radio that it’s meant to snow tonight.’
‘Here?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ she replies.
‘In Seattle?’ asks Issy. She and I exchange a look that says, ‘Are you sure, Mom?’
‘Yes, girls, here in Seattle,’ says Mom pointedly. She rolls her eyes, which is very un-Mom-like, but after the day she’s had, she must be over everyone and everything.
‘Does that mean we might have a white Christmas?’ Raff asks hopefully.
‘No,’ we all say in unison, and Raff looks between us, confused – or it could be disappointment.
‘It doesn’t stick,’ says Mom.
‘Well, it rarely sticks but when it does, most of the city shuts down,’ says Issy.
‘Seattle gets snow so rarely that we don’t have the infrastructure to handle it,’ explains Dad. ‘Not enough snow ploughs, not enough gritters. And the ones they have are used on the highways and to clear streets around hospitals and emergency services. ’
‘Plus, Seattle is hilly as fuck,’ adds Issy. Mom throws her a disapproving look for the profanity.
‘Oh dear,’ Raff replies, ‘I can see how that would be… well, problematic.’
His eyes dart towards Monica and so do mine. She doesn’t seem fazed, which is impressive considering how difficult it would be to host a wedding for a hundred and fifty guests if no one can get anywhere. I catch Raff’s eye and shrug.
‘Well, fingers crossed then,’ he says, dropping it.
‘Are we drinking this in here or the living room?’ Dad asks over his shoulder.
‘Living room!’ Mom declares. ‘I need to relax.’
Dad pours eggnog into mugs and sets them on a tray, and takes them into the living room while Issy forages in one of the cupboards for a small platter, then piles cookies onto it. She picks up a fruit mince pie and sniffs it, then mutters, ‘Hmm,’ and adds a few to the platter.
‘Raff, can you please take this into the other room?’ she asks him with a smile.
‘I’d be delighted to,’ he replies, and I stifle a giggle. Sometimes Raff is so English.
Mom is about to follow Dad and Raff, but Issy grabs her by the arm and pulls her, me, and Monica into a messy huddle.
‘What?’ I ask her. ‘You’re being weird.’
‘Mom, did you know Gaby has a thing for Raff?’ she whispers hurriedly.
‘Issy!’ I hiss.
‘You do?’ asks Mom, wide-eyed.
‘I knew,’ says Monica. ‘It’s kinda obvious.’
‘It is not…’ I expel a ragged breath. ‘Look,’ I say in a hoarse whisper. ‘I don’t have feelings for Ra?—’
‘You just told me you did,’ says Issy .
I scowl at her. ‘You are the worst sister in the world.’
Mom snorts. ‘I beg to differ,’ she scoffs. ‘Chrissy’s taken that title.’
‘I think Raff feels the same way,’ Monica tells Mom, really not helping the situation.
Mom gawps at her. ‘He does?’
‘No,’ I insist. ‘He doesn’t – he’s seeing someone – a tall, blonde, curvy goddess,’ I add. Surely the contrast between me and Julia will lend weight to my argument.
‘But you two would be so great together,’ whines Mom, something like pity in her eyes.
Unable to bear it, I break eye contact and glare at Issy. Just because her love life is in shambles doesn’t give her the right to charge headlong into mine, stirring up drama.
‘Yeah, well, it’s not happening,’ I say as assertively as I can. I really need to shut this conversation down. ‘Now, can we please…’ I jerk my head in the direction of the living room.
‘Oh!’ Mom gasps, grabbing my arm. ‘I put you two in the same room! And now you’re sharing a bed .’
‘That’s what I said.’
I glare at Issy again. Mom may not be the only one in danger of committing sororicide today.
‘It’s fine, Mom. I’m fine.’
‘But—’
‘Are you ladies joining us?’
Dad has paused in the doorway, looking either confused or amused, or a mix of both.
‘Sorry, Dad. Mom was telling us what she got you for Christmas,’ Issy lies. She shoots me a subtle wink, but her cover story doesn’t make up for sparking this shitshow of a conversation in the first place.
‘Oh, then I’d better make myself scarce,’ says Dad with a grin. ‘ But don’t take too long,’ he calls from the hallway. ‘Hot eggnog – delicious; lukewarm eggnog – disgusting.’
I wait until I’m positive that Dad’s out of earshot. ‘Okay, look, you can’t say anything. Raff is dating Julia and he’s super keen on her and I’m just gonna have to deal, okay? Maybe if they don’t work out then— Never mind. I don’t even want to go there. So, please leave it.’
Mom seems concerned, her lips taut, Monica shakes her head at me, blatantly disbelieving that Raff doesn’t reciprocate my feelings, and now Issy won’t look at me. It’s clear that remorse has kicked in – she’s like a dog that destroyed a throw pillow, is covered in feathers, and feels so guilty, it won’t make eye contact.
‘Come on,’ I say.
I lead them out of the kitchen and when we get to the living room, where Mariah is playing softly on the stereo, Raff greets me with a huge smile. ‘Are you going to tell them?’ he asks.
‘Tell them?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘Yes, your news,’ he replies with a laugh.
My news that I’ve fallen for my best friend? Everyone here knows that except for you and Dad.
Issy nudges me with her elbow and leans close. ‘The promotion,’ she whispers through barely parted lips.
‘Oh, yes! My news!’ With everything that’s happened since they arrived home, it completely slipped my mind.
I take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table, grab a mug of eggnog from the tray, and tell them about my promotion.